


The Chase

by redseeker



Series: The Hunt [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-11
Updated: 2011-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-16 16:57:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redseeker/pseuds/redseeker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bungled mission allows Devcon to corner the brat prince Starscream, but the hunter should know a cornered animal is dangerous to approach.</p>
<p>Follows on from 'The Gauntlet' - 'A maverick cop sets his sights on the prince of a criminal empire. A game of cat and mouse in an alternate universe. (A not entirely serious human!AU.)'</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chase

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Devcon03](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devcon03/gifts).



D-Con was a respected brand. Outwardly, it was a perfectly respectable software company which had, over the years, branched out here and there into other lucrative industries. The headquarters was located in Detroit, practically across the street from the Sumdac tower. The D-Con building was more low-key than Sumdac Systems' ostentatious edifice, the company's CEO preferring to channel his resources into his business ventures - both legitimate and not - rather than architecture.   
  
Starscream was in his office, standing by the window. His office was almost as big as his boss's, but was so neat it was obvious he never used the place. He had swung by the HQ building this morning just to check on things, and then he was off out again. More and more these days Megatron was giving him the hands-on work for the other, darker side of the business, gradually giving him more and more responsibility. He was more than an advisor - he was the company's top soldier, and Megatron's right-hand man in every aspect. The old man trusted him.  
  
A small, cold smirk curved the corner of his delicate mouth. He was looking out at the city through the floor-to-ceiling window that took up the whole of one wall of the office. The glass was tinted, so while he could see out, no one could see in.   
  
He had almost made it. He was so close.   
  
He started as the intercom buzzed.  
  
"Starscream. Get in here, now."  
  
Ridiculous old bastard, Starscream thought with a curl of his lip. Megaton was perfectly capable of getting up and walking the ten paces from his office to speak to Starscream in person, but no, he used the intercom instead. Made Starscream go to _him_.  
  
He sighed and reached over the desk to press the com button. "Yes, sir. On my way, sir."  
  
Megatron's office was a short way down the hall. A set of sleek, black glass double doors opened into a neat anteroom which also served as an office for Megatron's PA. She wasn't there, so Starscream strode across the room and straight to the matching black doors that led into Megatron's space. He pushed them open dramatically and entered.  
  
Megatron was seated at his desk, going through some papers.   
  
Starscream sauntered over to the black leather couch by the wall facing the window - the office was the same design as Starscream's, just larger - and sprawled out on it.  
  
"You rang, sir?"  
  
"Mm." Megatron didn't look up from his papers. That alone made Starscream bristle, but he bottled the feeling. His career was more important than a fleeting frustration. “I have a job for you. I would do it myself, but I have the KaibaCorp merger meeting this afternoon, and besides, a job this simple should be well within your meagre capabilities.”  
  
“I’m sure,” Starscream said. “Why don’t you fill me in?”  
  
*  
  
Tempers were beginning to fray at the station.   
  
Devcon stood, arms folded and head down, against the wall in the rear corner of the office. The chief was busy berating a group of rookies who had just blown what could have been a breakthrough bust in the investigation into D-Con’s unlawful activities. Devcon found it interesting to watch the politics and general level of incompetence among his colleagues. Having only recently transferred from New York, he was still finding his feet in the new station. His bosses back home had been all too happy to get rid of him, and to palm him off onto some other suckers. He was a peerless detective – he knew that and so did those he worked for. However, he was difficult. He had a problem with authority, and he had no problems making that very plainly known. He refused to follow procedure, so that even though his results were always excellent, his superiors always had a hard time trying to justify the reports he turned in. If he bothered turning in a report at all.  
  
His colleagues here were mostly youngsters. They must have some experience or merit, otherwise they’d still be simple beat cops, but Devcon had yet to see anything interesting from them. He could sense the chief’s exasperation.   
  
Worst of all, Devcon had been assigned a partner.  
  
Fair enough, he thought. Rules were rules. The poor unsuspecting copper in question wasn’t too young, at least, and seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. He also didn’t seem as obsessed with doing things by the book as some of the stiffs here seemed to be, which Devcon could respect. However, he wasn’t the loose cannon that Devcon was, and Devcon assumed he had been paired with capable, laid-back Jazz in the hopes that the younger man would be something of a good influence. In Devcon’s experience, it usually worked the other way around.  
  
Satisfied that his partner and his other colleagues were suitably involved in the discussion not to notice his absence, Devcon slipped out of the office. He had a contact to meet, and he didn’t want to jeopardise the possibility of gaining real, valuable intel by having his partner tagging along.   
  
He took his own car and drove to a quiet area of town. He parked outside, and immediately knew he was in luck. Parked half on the sidewalk in front of his own car was a monster of a vehicle – painted in black and lurid green, adorned with a body-kit of spikes, lights, and a hefty spoiler. He gave a quiet snort of laughter and entered the bar.  
  
It was a dive. The air was a thick murk of smoke and alcoholic fumes, and the lighting was low. The man he wanted to see was seated at the bar itself, wreathed in a cloud of cigar smoke. Devcon took the stool beside him, and ordered a scotch, for show. He was reminded of his last trip to a very different drinking establishment, where he had ordered his usual drink and watched a beautiful young man dance with the lithe grace of a snake.   
  
It was a while before either of them spoke. Devcon’s chosen drinking companion this time was a powerfully built man dressed in leathers. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin pale and adorned around the eyes with faded black tattoos. Copper turned criminal thug now turned private investigator, Lockdown was hardly the most subtle of informants, but Devcon found his direct attitude and somewhat sadistic sense of humour amusing. And, like Devcon, Lockdown got results. Only difference was that, while Devcon chased the bad guys, Lockdown chased whoever would earn him his next paycheque.   
  
“Lawmen runnin’ in circles again?”  
  
Devcon snorted. “This city is run by amateurs.”  
  
“Wrong.” Lockdown ground out his cigar on the bar-top. “This city is run by pros. Just not cops.”  
  
Devcon took a sip of his drink. The dark liquid burned sweetly on the way down.   
  
“So,” he said at length. “You’d better have some good news for me.”  
  
“Not sure if you’d call it good news. But, rumour has it that little piece you like so much is gonna be at the Blue Bullet tonight.”  
  
“That ain’t news.” Devcon felt mildly ruffled as he knew exactly who the “piece” Lockdown referred to was. However, the Blue Bullet was a high-class club that Starscream and his ilk frequently visited. It was one of the few such places in the city that wasn’t owned by D-Con’s people, as far as Devcon knew. Thus, it was prime neutral ground for all sorts of interesting deals.  
  
“Maybe not, but what if I told you Alpha Trion’s gonna be there too?”  
  
That gave Devcon pause. Alpha Trion was a senator, as whiter-than-white as he was ancient. What the hell would he be meeting with Starscream for? And in such a place as the Blue Bullet? Hardly respectable.   
  
Devon gave Lockdown a sidelong look. “And what is this little titbit gonna cost me?”  
  
“I’ll call in a favour sometime,” Lockdown replied with a gap-toothed smirk. Devcon nodded. Lockdown always collected on his favours.  
  
*  
  
“Yes, Shockwave, I realise- ...No, I didn’t mean- Would you just shut up and let me get a word in edgewise?”  
  
Starscream snarled and swung the Maserati around a sharp turn, ignoring the red light. Cell phone to his ear, he drove one-handed, foot flat on the gas. He knew the traffic cops couldn’t touch him.  
  
Normally he didn’t give a crap about that waste of space Shockwave and his holier-than-thou attitude, largely because Shockwave spent most of his time pushing papers at police HQ. However, today the condescending weasel had decided it was necessary to give Starscream an additional briefing. As if this were Starscream’s first mission. Please. Shockwave was just sore because he wanted Starscream’s job, but instead the old man relegated him to cop-watch duty, or “intelligence” as Megatron charitably put it.  
  
This wasn’t even a difficult assignment. They’d been working on it a while already, and tonight was to be the closer. Sure, they already had various local political and business figures in D-Con’s pocket, but an influential senator would be a very nice addition. Trion had built his reputation on his unrivalled integrity and honesty. The irony of it made Starscream smile.   
  
After leaving Megatron’s office, Starscream had killed time making sure tonight would go without a hitch. He had arranged to meet his back-up at the club.   
  
He screeched to a halt outside the venue and got out. He considered tossing the Maserati’s keys to a gaping valet, but instead tucked them in his inside jacket pocket and left the car where it was. Sure enough, his esteemed colleagues were waiting for him. He’d had his pick for who would accompany him tonight, and he thought he had chosen the best of a bad bunch.   
  
Blackarachnia had, he’d heard, once been on the fast-track police academy route, all set to follow in her daddy’s footsteps. She’d been in the same class as Elite darling Sentinel Prime, but something had happened. Starscream wasn’t privy to the details, nor did he care enough to discover them, but the result was that Blackarachnia had ended up on the other side of the thin blue line. Now a promising up-and-comer within D-Con’s ranks, the acerbic young woman had proven to be capable and intelligent, and with none of the messy moral qualms someone from her background might be assumed to have.  
  
Starscream’s second choice was Oil Slick, largely because of how easily swayed his loyalties were. Many of Starscream’s colleagues possessed an almost fanatical devotion to Megatron, and Starscream had trouble working with them for that reason. Not only could he never respect the old man or his decisions like they did, but more importantly, there was less chance of winning support for himself with such devotees. For instance, Lugnut would have been excellent to have along as some extra muscle, or even some grunt like Cyclonus or Blackout. However, he knew that so long as he kept Oil Slick sweet as far as payment was concerned, he would have himself a satisfactorily loyal enforcer.  
  
They flanked him as he entered. He walked with a strut, red-hued eyes scanning the tightly packed crowds. They were heading to the VIP area, as usual, where it was quieter and more intimate. More discreet.  
  
“Just another day at the office,” he murmured to himself.  
  
*  
  
When Devcon arrived it was all over.   
  
He was coasting his car past the front entrance when a gunshot made the already unruly crowd outside bolt and panic. A figure darted from the door and into a parked red sports-car. Devcon instinctively slammed his foot on the gas and took off after the sports-car as it squealed away from the kerb.   
  
The Maserati was miles faster than Devcon’s car, but the corners slowed the fugitive down.   
  
Devcon had recognised the car immediately, of course. He’d seen the demon prince stepping from it on that night. Now he gunned his own vehicle’s engine to breaking point, skidding ‘round corners around which the Maserati effortlessly drifted.   
  
He could tell the direction Starscream was headed, and he veered off to take a short-cut. The plan was to head him off, and he grinned and congratulated himself as he swung into a bleak parking lot and found himself practically right in Starscream’s path. The Maserati screeched and skidded as Starscream hit the brakes too hard. The little car spun, and came to an eventual stop some feet away. Devcon turned his car in the direction of the sports-car.  
  
Devcon waited until Starscream got out of his car, hissing with murderous rage, and started running toward Devcon before he turned on his main beams.   
  
Starscream halted, wide-eyed and half blinded. Devcon could see him clearly now, and could see the amusing mixture of panic and irritation on the young man’s face.   
  
He half expected Starscream to run, but he stood his ground as Devcon slowly exited his car and closed the door. Devcon was a dark shape behind the blazing headlights, but somehow Starscream’s eyes still met his.  
  
Starscream remained still and transfixed for only a moment more before he pulled the gun from his hip holster, aimed, and fired. In the same beat as the bullet, he turned to flee.  
  
The shot caught Devcon on the shoulder, just a nick, a minor flesh wound. Starscream hadn’t aimed properly; the headlights would have dazzled him, and perhaps he was panicking too. Devcon smiled a cold smile and gave chase.  
  
Starscream was quick, but Devcon’s long strides meant he caught up to him just as Starscream reached the Maserati. Starscream gave an angry shout as Devcon grabbed the back of his leather jacket, just below the back of his neck, and slammed the young man face-down on the hood of the car.  
  
Starscream hissed and strained to get free. Devcon kept Starscream pressed against the hot metal. He grabbed Starscream’s gun hand and slammed that down too, repeatedly, until Starscream yowled and let go of the weapon. The gun clattered to the asphalt, and Devcon kicked it away.

He had his own gun in a shoulder holster under his jacket, but it was the cuffs on his belt he wanted to go for. That meant he would have to let go of Starscream, though.  
  
“Now what, lawman?” Devcon looked at his lovely prey. Starscream was glaring up at him, his cheek pressed against the hood. His expression was pure venom, but a smirk curled his lips. “I guess you meant it when you said you’d hunt me.”  
  
“I always mean what I say.” Devcon’s voice held a glittering diamond-hard edge. “Unlike you.”  
  
“Oh, no, officer-!” Starscream giggled and squirmed. He must be pretty uncomfortable, Devcon mused. “I am the very epitome of the honest, upstanding citizen.”  
  
“...Right. That’s why you shot Alpha Trion tonight.” It was a guess, but not a particularly risky one, given the variables.  
  
“That’s where you’re wrong, _officer_.” Starscream grunted as he tried to free himself again. Devcon held him down with ease, watching his struggling with interest. Starscream relaxed again and began to laugh. “I didn’t shoot the sheriff.”  
  
“I’m the sheriff here,” Devcon growled, but this only made Starscream laugh scornfully all the more.  
  
Devcon snarled and used his strength to lift Starscream from the hood and flip him. He managed to get a cuff on one of Starscream’s wrists before the young man attacked. A good, solid punch to the jaw, but then he hissed and clawed. Devcon cried out in rage as his cheek began to bleed. He delivered a swift hook to Starscream’s jaw and pushed him down. Starscream’s back hit the hood of the car, and Devcon was able to get the second cuff on, even though Starscream was kicking and cursing.  
  
“If you didn’t shoot Trion, why don’t you be a good little upstanding citizen and tell me what _did_ happen?” Devcon asked. He pulled Starscream’s hands above his head and pinned them against the windshield.  
  
Starscream licked his lips and kept up that damned smirk, but said nothing.   
  
Devcon kicked Starscream’s feet apart and pressed down on him, keeping him trapped against the car. Starscream seemed summarily unfazed. Devcon started when the young man arched elegantly against him.  
  
“Don’t try that shit with me,” he said, speaking low into Starscream’s ear.  
  
“Don’t try _what_?”  
  
Devcon looked at him. It was hard to tell in the dark, but were Starscream’s cheeks flushed? Was his breathing quick because of the chase, or something else?  
  
“Even if you didn’t kill Trion, you just shot me. Assault on an officer of the law. I’ll be taking you in any moment... Oh, and by the way...”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You’re a lousy shot.”  
  
This made Starscream angry again, and he bucked and writhed under Devcon. Devcon let out a short, hot breath... was he too close? What was he doing...?  
  
“I am an excellent shot!” Starscream growled and bit at Devcon’s jaw. Devcon jerked his head away, but when he looked down he saw some of his own blood, from the scratches Starscream had given him, smudged on Starscream’s cheek.  
  
“Now, now, how childish. Are you going to behave? Going to come quietly?”  
  
“I never come quietly.”  
  
Devcon growled. “Don’t play with me.” He grabbed Starscream’s collar and lifted him a fraction, only to slam him back down again. Starscream gave a short yelp at the impact, but he wasn’t hurt. He did squirm some more, and then his smirk broadened and Devcon felt the heel of one shiny cowboy-boot sliding up his calf.  
  
“Who’s playing? You’re the one who keeps pretending...” These words breathed into Devcon’s ear made him shiver. The night was cold, but he didn’t feel it.  
  
Starscream made a small, purring sound, and licked at Devcon’s cheek-bone. Devcon snapped. He claimed Starscream’s smirking mouth in a hard kiss, and ground his hips down against Starscream’s slim frame. Starscream only gave a gleeful moan and wrapped one leg around Devcon’s thigh.   
  
Devcon wasn’t sure, at this point, who the victor was. Who was hunting who, even now. He wasn’t sure if he cared, not when Starscream was bound and wanting beneath him, all smugness and sly, slippery kisses.   
  
In a matter of minutes he had Starscream’s skinny jeans unzipped and one large hand thrust inside. The little bastard was as hard as he was. His own trousers were unzipped moments later, his hand strong and deft despite his urgency. He kept one hand pinning Starscream’s cuffed wrists to the car. Starscream watched him with a knowing, feline smile, and parted his legs a little more, causing the black denim to tighten between his thighs. Devcon gave his cock a few rough strokes before pressing his hips down again, and their lengths slid together. Starscream hissed appreciatively and circled his hips. Devcon wrapped his free hand around both their cocks and pumped slowly, grinding against his sweet little captive. Starscream moaned and writhed, pushing back, his hair becoming artfully dishevelled.  
  
“Dancing for me again, ‘Con?”  
  
“Nnh... I never danced for _you_ ,” Starscream replied. His voice was thick with lust, his skin hot to the touch. He licked at Devcon’s lips and Devcon bit his in return. They kissed, deep and hard and needy, something raw and animal driving them both, drawing them together.

The hood of the Maserati was cooling. Far away Devcon could hear sirens. He was off the grid here, though. They wouldn’t be found.  
  
He refused to come before Starscream. He wanted to watch his demon prince reach ecstasy first. He wanted to see the bliss on his face.  
  
Starscream did come, but when he did he bared his teeth in a raw and bestial snarl, and Devcon noticed again how sharp those canines were. Starscream clamped his thighs tight against Devcon’s hips and arched sharply, silent in the moment of climax and then moaning long and high.  
  
“Fuck...” Devcon stood back and pulled Starscream by the cuffs. He pushed the younger man to his knees on the asphalt, his back to the grille of the car. He then took his cock in one hand and, dropping the cuffs, took a grip on Starscream’s hair with the other. Starscream got the picture, and opened wide. Devcon slipped his cock inside with an almost pained sigh, slipping deep, wanting to see how much of him Starscream could take. Starscream growled and began to suck hungrily. The inches he couldn’t take into his throat he wrapped his fingers ‘round, and the cuffs chinked musically where they linked his wrists together. He started to bob his head, but Devcon tightened his grip on Starscream’s hair and moved his hips instead. Starscream gave a long, hungry moan as Devcon fucked his mouth for several shallow, fevered thrusts. Devcon tensed and pushed in deep, holding Starscream by the hair and grinding into his throat as he came, pumping his come deep and forcing Starscream to swallow. He felt Starscream shiver, and a set of nimble, slim fingers crept between his legs to caress his backside. He gave a startled shout as one finger snuck between his buttocks to stroke his entrance, and he abruptly pulled back. The last spurt of come sprayed attractively over Starscream’s cheek.   
  
Devcon forced Starscream’s head back, and Starscream dropped his hands. The younger man was panting, but grinning all the same. A pink, long tongue flicked out to lick some fluid from his lips.  
  
“That was quite a load, lawman,” Starscream said. “Has it been a while?”  
  
“Shut up.” Devcon let go of Starscream’s hair and took a step back. He looked at his prey for a moment before beginning to zip himself up.  
  
“Mm…” Starscream wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, and then wiped his hand on his jeans. He looked down, as though only just noticing the cuffs that bound him. He shakily got to his knees and refastened his skinnies, while Devcon watched. Devcon was in something of a daze. “Well, copper,” Starscream said. His voice was hoarse and quiet. “You made just one mistake…”  
  
“…Huh?” Devcon snorted. “And what was that?”  
  
Starscream looked up at him, and Devcon saw the glint flash through those blood-coloured eyes. Starscream moved like lightning. He rolled and grabbed the gun. He came up on his feet, the gun grasped in both hands and trained steadily at Devcon’s head. Starscream kept his gaze fixed on him as he started to walk backwards.   
  
Devcon remained still. If he reached for his own gun, Starscream would fire. Instead he held Starscream’s eyes. He felt far from disappointed, far from betrayed. This prey was a worthy prey...  
  
“When you cuff someone, keep their hands behind them,” Starscream said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll just be going...”  
  
He strode backward, never taking his eyes off Devcon, toward Devcon’s car. The driver’s door was still open. He had left the engine running... fuck, why had he left the engine running? The headlights were still on full.  
  
Starscream flashed him a winning, vicious smile just before he darted into the driver’s side and slammed the door. Devcon drew his gun that instant and fired into the light, but the car was already moving, roaring into motion and surging forward, and Devcon had to dive to the side to avoid being hit. He rolled onto one knee and shot after the retreating car, but none of the bullets hit gold.  
  
The blue car disappeared in a neon blur of taillights around a distant bend. Devcon let out a long sigh, and then grinned. He’d picked a good mark this time. A good fight. Oh, he looked forward to taking him down...  
  
He got to his feet and walked around the little sports-car. He pulled open the Maserati’s driver’s door and slumped into the seat. He groped beneath the steering wheel, then swore. Starscream had taken the keys with him, leaving Devcon stranded.  
  
“…I should’ve known,” he murmured to himself, half annoyed and half impressed. He closed the car door and zipped up his jacket all the way to the top. Then he turned and started to walk.  
  
*  
  
Starscream was still grinning even as he eased the roaring muscle-car onto the freeway. He drove at a sedate pace, since he knew he wasn’t being followed.   
  
Things had certainly taken an interesting turn.   
  
The evening had initially gone irritatingly wrong when Alpha Trion had shown up with an escort of privately hired enforcers of his own. The traitorous antique had been expecting Megatron himself, but when Megatron’s right-hand man had shown up instead, Starscream guessed he had thought that was almost as good, because Trion’s thugs had immediately attempted to take Starscream and his people down. Presumably the plan had been to lure Megatron there with the promise of a deal and then sic the boys on him, rough him up, then turn him into the Detroit police. Starscream was disgusted. It would have been far more in Trion’s interests to simply hold the deal.  
  
However, as soon as things had turned hostile, Starscream had been ready to beat a retreat. It was actually Blackarachnia who killed Trion, and Starscream was glad of this. Not because he had a problem with conscience, but because if anyone then had to take the fall for the incident, it would be the girl. Still, he figured it wouldn’t come to that. D-Con had enough power to make sure the whole matter was glossed over in both the media and the judicial system, and Starscream wasn’t worried.  
  
It was what happened after that Starscream found so interesting. That copper…   
  
Starscream gave a slow, sharp smile as he indicated off and coasted onto the exit ramp, heading back into town. The cuffs still linked his wrists, but they were only a temporary impediment.   
  
He was going to find out everything he could about that man. And then, then he’d have a little hunt of his own.


End file.
